


Puppies for Breakfast

by aldiara



Category: Alles was zaehlt
Genre: Alles was zählt - Freeform, Ficlet, Fluff, Humour, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-02
Updated: 2010-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:46:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldiara/pseuds/aldiara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combine puppy eyes with hip bones, add generous helping of Fluff. Resistance is futile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppies for Breakfast

“Oh no,” is the first thing Roman says, and Deniz can tell he's just one dropped coffee mug away from diva jazz hands. “No no no. This is _not_ what I meant by 'I owe you'!”

Deniz glares, clutching the puppy closer to his chest. “It was an IOU. There were no ifs, buts, caveats or conditions. If you get to keep _him_ …” He gestures at Marc, who’s at the breakfast table, hand hovering in mid-air en route to the Nutella jar. His face is trying hard to settle on an expression, but at the moment it’s firmly stuck in No Man’s Land between vast amusement and alarm.

Roman’s face has no such trouble. Roman’s face is a proud resident of the Nation of Appalled Horror.

“Deniz, it will pee on the carpet.”

“We don’t have any carpet,” Marc interjects, then coughs when Deniz shoots him a glare. He doesn’t want any help from _him_. In his arms, the puppy squirms a bit and stretches to lick his cheek.

Roman’s expression wavers a bit. Deniz pounces.

“I got him from the pound. He’s been there for three weeks. They were going to put him down.”

“Oh no, really? Poor thing,” Marc says sympathetically. This time it’s Roman who glares at him. Marc promptly develops an intense interest in the small print on the Fluff container. “Although I’m sure it would have been very, uhm, humane,” he adds hastily.

“Deniz, look at that fur, it will shed everywhere! What breed is that anyway, a feather duster?!”

“Sheltie. And I’ll brush him,” Deniz says stubbornly. The puppy wriggles to stick its wet nose in Deniz’s ear and gives a low whine. “Don’t worry, Radames,” Deniz reassures him, never taking his eyes off Roman. “The mean figure skater is not going to kick you out. He owes us.”

“Figure skating trainer,” Roman corrects automatically, but his expression has left the Nation of Appalled Horror and is now floundering statelessly somewhere between indecision and grudging enchantment.

There’s a suppressed chortle echoing out of the bottom of Marc’s coffee mug. “ _Radames_?”

“What? He was a cool dude!” Deniz protests. “Despite all the singing.”

Roman mutters something about the questionable benefits of introducing 20-year-old Quentin Tarantino fans to _Aida_. He whirls on Marc, who is still valiantly trying to appear unamused, and failing utterly.

“Say something!”

Marc lifts his hands. “Hey, it’s his flat. I’m just paying rent and shagging the landlords. Besides” – he grabs the morning paper and unfolds it quickly, the better to use as a shield if needed – “they’re kind of cute.”

Gritting his teeth, Roman turns back to Deniz, who takes the opportunity to hoist Radames a bit higher on his chest. The motion tugs his shirt out of his low-riding jeans and exposes several inches of skin above his hip bone. Radames tucks his silky head against Deniz’s neck and looks at Roman. Deniz looks at Roman too.

Roman’s expression crumbles.

At the breakfast table, Marc chokes.

Roman utters a small, defeated whimper and throws up his hands. “Fine, fine, fine. Keep him. Let him slobber all over the place, I don’t care. Just stop with the _eyes_. Both of you!”

Deniz beams. Radames tentatively wags his tail.

“But if he pees in the toy box, it’s hot dogs for dinner,” Roman grumbles, reaching out to cautiously touch the top of the puppy’s head. Radames licks his fingers. Roman makes a face. Grinning, Deniz leans in to kiss him.

“It’s okay, I put that on top of the closet,” Marc says absently, spooning Fluff.


End file.
